Gunner's Moon: Difference between revisions
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==Preface by Carolyn== | ==Preface by Carolyn Page== | ||
===TRUCKS RUNNING THROUGH LAOS=== | |||
Some nights in rural countrysides the only sounds are owls bathed in moonlight. Farmers dream of breeding bulls, dragging stones, setting fence posts. In our house my lover plows in foreign soil, and I lie down with the enemy. From nowhere they come through thin skin of dreams, they slip between the sheets, aim and take prisoners, and I am captive too, for I am war-blind to my lover's lens. I see no tracers flash nor hear strange tongues. No splash of napalm, no slow death's fiery orange glow in sweaty tropical nights. "Smitty, watch out!" means nothing in the dawn. "I'll kill the lousy son of a bitch!" rings out and I cannot touch this rage until it cools, "Roll in! Break right! Pull out!" The red-lit cockpit charts mark targets to be blown—convoys of trucks crawling along the jungle floor. It's a private Hell, an undeclared war still raging in an undemilitarized zone. | |||
==Part I—Toy Soldier== | ==Part I—Toy Soldier== | ||
===The Wall=== | ===The Wall=== | ||
Revision as of 06:59, 9 June 2020
Gunner's Moon is a collection of poems written by Cpt. Roy Zarucchi of the 609th Special Operations Squadron during their time as part of Operation Steel Tiger. I managed to acquire this copy from an estate sale on eBay. To whomever was bidding against me, I hope that this is an adequate consolation. I wanted to preserve and share these stories with everyone.
The copy of this work in the IHF Library is signed by Zarucchi.
Normally we would not post the entirety of a book on our site, however, Roy Zarucchi retired as a Major and has unfortunately passed away in 2011. The Publisher information listed in the book does not seem to be valid any longer. Either the publisher has become defunct, or else the sole proprietor of the publisher has also perished since the book was published in 1998. We have made all good-faith efforts to contact anyone connected with this publisher, but have not been able to do so. As such, we have decided to post the entirety of the work here to preserve Roy Zarucchi's legacy since the book is out of the print and only limited quantities were produced. We are doing this on a good-faith basis and not attempting to infringe upon any copyrights. If you are an agent or representative of the publisher and wish this content to be removed, please send us an email and the information will be removed immediately.
Preface by Carolyn Page
TRUCKS RUNNING THROUGH LAOS
Some nights in rural countrysides the only sounds are owls bathed in moonlight. Farmers dream of breeding bulls, dragging stones, setting fence posts. In our house my lover plows in foreign soil, and I lie down with the enemy. From nowhere they come through thin skin of dreams, they slip between the sheets, aim and take prisoners, and I am captive too, for I am war-blind to my lover's lens. I see no tracers flash nor hear strange tongues. No splash of napalm, no slow death's fiery orange glow in sweaty tropical nights. "Smitty, watch out!" means nothing in the dawn. "I'll kill the lousy son of a bitch!" rings out and I cannot touch this rage until it cools, "Roll in! Break right! Pull out!" The red-lit cockpit charts mark targets to be blown—convoys of trucks crawling along the jungle floor. It's a private Hell, an undeclared war still raging in an undemilitarized zone.